“You’re supposed to be gone home with Hughie.” “The Gards pulled him over for tax and insurance,” he called back through the windscreen like that answered my question. I gaped. “So? Hughie’s above board.” “He looked at me, Johnny—shone his big fucking torch right in my eyes,” he called back. “I panicked and jumped out of the car.” Shrugging, he added, “I’ve been running around town ever since.” He narrowed his eyes. “I tried to call you but you kept cutting me off!” I glared at him. “You’re King Clit?” “Oh, yeah,” Gibsie snickered. “I forgot about that.” “What’s Hughie down as?” “Ginger
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